


Evidence of Things Not Seen (Or The Many Virtues of The Admiral's Shower)

by Pennytextrix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e13 Taking a Break from All Your Worries, F/M, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennytextrix/pseuds/Pennytextrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to nnaylime 's open challenge 15. Prompt: up against the wall & spread 'em.  Over at loveintheloo. While I was thinking about it how to do this I watched "Taking a break from all your worries." and a dark and twisty idea formed. This is the result.Angsty Smut ahead!! Graphic sex in the shower, with a little hint of D/S thrown in for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence of Things Not Seen (Or The Many Virtues of The Admiral's Shower)

It’s been like this for a while now. This thing between us. We don’t talk about it. Fragile as it is, our words might break it. To speak of it would make this more than it is. It would become complicated. It would become real. And we’ve both had more of that than we can bare, for a good while. Still, there it is, in the brush of your hand against mine, there again in the hot flash of grief that colours your eyes with doubt and fear at your own declaration.

Solace. Redemption. Need. So quietly, these things hang in the air between us, I can barely hear them, yet I have faith they exist, twisting turning in the air between us. While they remain airborne we are safe from their repercussions. Days like this are dangerous. They falter. They split and fall. And we are reminded of all the promises between us. Just once more, in sadness, in need, in desperation, again and again.

“No, we give him his trial.”

You wanted to say yes. You wish you could let me make him disappear. You would not mourn the passing of Gaius Baltar. But deep down you know you would not cheer his execution either. Because you know, you hate it, but you know, that had it been you, You would have fought them. And we would all be dead. It would have been good and honourable and heroic, and you would have lost. Your sorrow, your grief, is in the realisation that you exist in a universe where life is the reward for cowardice, and heroic efforts only leave you broken and bleeding. You don’t want to live in a universe like that.

I reach for you. My hand tangles in your hair as I lean over you, brushing your lips with my own. For long moments you hesitate. It is written on your face. You hate this. You hate that I want you still, after what you did today. And more, worse maybe, in your mind anyway, is the fact that you want me, even after you consented to the torture of a man. Even after you watched me do it. Even after you realised that maybe we both took pleasure in it. You are ashamed. Appalled at yourself. Appalled at me. You feel dirty. Leaning over all of that, on all of you, I’m at a loss. I’ve been here before. I know there’s nothing to be done that can make this right.

Your eyes are wild with all of it. The tension of it snaps without warning and suddenly your arms are around my neck, crushing me to you, your tongue deep in my mouth, claiming, possessing, your teeth sharp and biting into my bottom lip. I feel your hand groping me, squeezing my cock through my slacks.

“Bill..” You moan into my mouth, and I couldn’t care less about Gaius Frakking Baltar.

I lean into you, grinding my knee against your core, as my hands work at unbuttoning your shirt and my tongue sweeps along the indent between your collar bones. I hear you whimper. Feel you squirm against me, Your hands pushing at my chest. “Bill!” I almost take it for pleasure, but it is too panicked, too desperate, too shrill and too high. I stop. You are crying. It frightens me. I’ve never seen you like this.

“Let me up. I can’t do this. Not like this.” You say it in heavy sobs you are fighting to control, as you push me off you, and scramble to your feet, attempting to right your clothes along the way.

I stare after you. Trying to figure out whether I should go to you, or give you some space. Eventually I split the difference and move to the arch of bulkhead that separates the bedroom from the main living quarters. As close as I can be to you and still give you some space. I find you pacing back and forth in tiny, single baby steps. You don’t know whether to stay or go either. Your arms clasped around yourself, like they’re the only thing holding you together. Angrily, your hand moves to wipe at useless tears. Your breath still catches in your throat as you try and control your breathing.

I can’t bare to see you like this. I try to catch your eyes. Try to make you look at me. You won’t and so I move toward you. I would do anything. Say anything, to take this away.

“Laura, I...”

“Don’t. Just...don’t”   Your command stops me dead. I drop my arms to my sides, I try and get you to look at me again desperate for a connection to you. Desperate for anything but this.

“Ok.... Laura, look at me, give me your eyes.”

You do. And I wish you hadn’t. I don’t like what I see there. You are doing to yourself what cancer and two apocalypses couldn’t. You are destroying yourself, breaking round the edges. Soon, I fear the rest will follow.

Your breath one last hiccup. One last angry swipe at your eyes as you rock back and forth on your heels, still looking for somewhere to run. You look away, down at your own bare feet. You take a deep breath and smooth down your shirt.

“I need um...do you think I could use your shower?” You tilt your head to the side. Trying to smile as your hand waves in the general direction of the head. I bow my head in understanding. You think you can wash it away.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

You nod once before leaving. Sliding the door closed behind you. I stand guard outside. I’m not sure why, maybe I just need to know you’re still in there. Maybe, ‘cause I need to make myself sure you’re gonna come back. Finally, I hear it. The creaking of hot pipes, and the pressure of water. I try to find a sense of you there, behind metal and bulkheads but all I can feel is the humidity of that room beyond, seeping through the cracks. I can’t leave it alone, and if I know you, you don’t really want me to.

***

I don’t know why I’m in here. I know it has a lot to do with you, and shame and wanting to run and having nowhere to go beyond here: the sanctuary that was your quarters before I ruined it. It has a lot to do with not wanting to leave but feeling like I should. Mostly, it’s to do with wanting to be outside myself. Inevitably when things are crumbling around me, when I am falling apart; I find water. Turn the taps. Step under it. Burning hot, and fully clothed. Let it go. I don’t care. It’s instinctual, this need to cleanse, to rid myself of grief, of sorrow, of pride. Before now it’s had very little to do with sin. Our sins. Yours and mine.

It was more than a necessary evil. More than a means to an end. I could understand that. Certainly, I could rationalise it. But I, I took pleasure in his suffering, it was hot and heavy in my heart, so much like desire. So much like want. So much like it is when you touch me. So much like just now, with your hands in my hair and your hot mouth on mine. I was shocked. Terrified to discover the similarity. The sense memory of it. Somewhere the wires have got crossed and I can’t have you near me without remembering. Without knowing the dark places. Not without thinking of the things I have become capable of. The things that I want.

I scrub half imagined dirt from my face, push the hair from my eyes. Gasping into the heat, into the pressure of the water. I know you are out there listening for me. Waiting for me to come back. I find myself wondering what happens if I don’t? What happens if I stay in here forever? I wonder if you’ll come and find me. Like this. In your shower, fully clothed. I wonder what it says about me that it’s exactly what I want you to do.

I hate it. I hate that I still want you after everything I just felt. I hate how turned on I was with you, a torturer, a war criminal on top of me. I hate that there is no high ground here. In this we are exactly alike. I hate that when we break and fall into each other, the few times we have let ourselves, It is always like this. Always in desperation, in pain, in grief. It makes me think that this is not quite love. It is something more. Something sadder.

I hear the door crack open. Sliding back begrudgingly. Parallel thoughts fill me with anger, with love: Why don’t you have a frakking lock? / Yes! I’m glad you’re here. I don’t turn around. I hear the clink of buttons and belts as your uniform is cast to the floor. I am very still. My head resting against the shower wall. I can feel you behind me just before your arms go around me. I want you to go away and I can’t help but lean into you.

Your head bent low, a whisper nibbling on my ear.

“You were a long time. I was worried.” You try and twist me in your arms but I wont budge. You ask in concerned disbelief. “ Why are you still wearing your clothes?”

I look down at myself. I shake my head. “I don’t know. Didn’t seem to matter at the time.” I manage to choke out. Your hands start unbuttoning my blouse. Your fingers, not quite as accidently as you’d have me think, brush hard nipples through the soaked material. I find myself gasping, pushing into your touch.

“ I don’t want you here.” I say it because it’s not true. Because I want to deny us. Deny this. The way you make me feel. So close to enacting revenge. So close to something more. Your hands go to my hips. You are pushing me into you. Making me feel you. The reality of it in this moment. It is only want. Only desire. Only not quite love. You hold me there.

“Then get out my shower.” You growl aggressively in my ear. Sharply I feel my arm twisted, I am forced against the wall. Pinned by your weight against me, your knee between my thighs. You tip up my chin with your fingers and I am forced to face you. I find it bizarre in this moment. Your touch is almost affectionate. Almost gentle. And I am trapped in the deep angry understanding blue of your eyes.

“ I know what you’re trying to do. But frankly, I think you’re putting a little to much faith in the healing virtues of my shower.”

Your hands work at shedding my clothes. I don’t protest anymore. I don’t even react until I feel your weight against me, your large hand cupping me. Two thick, heavenly fingers pushing inside. I rock against your hand. My whimpers are only a reminder of the things I don’t want to feel. You are biting into my neck as I grind against your hand.

“What? ...Is this better?..isn’t this just another way to...to forget?...to..to deny the guilt..” Your fingers curl into me. “it’s not right...It’s not right...” my voice breaks as I feel you pressing down hard in exactly the right spot. “oh..Gods..”

You remove your hand, and grin up at me. I’d like to slap it off your face. I glare at you instead.

“Sure but my way..you’re naked.” You punctuate it by skimming your hands down my side, up again to flick at the hard buds of my nipples. I fall into you a little bit more.

“My way...” You turn me against the wall and I go willingly, as you take my hands in yours and raise them above my head as you breath into my ear. “is more fun.” Your hands run down my back, down to caress my arse, before both your hands edge between my thighs, urging them apart. I moan and wriggle closer to your touch. The sharp slap to my arse is surprising, and more of a turn on than I’d ever admit to. You push me back against the wall. All I feel is the heat of you, the hard length of your cock pressed into my arse. You hands encircling my wrists above my head. When you’re sure I’m not about to move again you release me to trace patterns over my skin, followed by kisses. An impossible contrast: the rough stubble of your face, the smooth softness of your mouth, the wetness of your tongue. So different from the water that pricks like the phantom whisper of _I love you, I love you,_ staccato on my skin.

There you are again. Down on your knees, stroking kisses along the tops of my thighs. Down the cleft of my arse, your hand pushing my thighs apart. I start to squirm again.

“No stay right there against the wall. ...Good... Now spread them.”

There’s a cold rush of air as you leave my side. Water no longer caresses a shroud around me and I look up searching for it, before I realise that you’ve stood up and unhooked the shower head from its fixture on the wall. I shiver at the thought of what you plan to do with it. Your hand is in my hair as you bring your mouth down on me in a heated awkward kiss. Tenderly you stroke my cheek. Our heads resting together, searching each other out in the small space between our lips.

“Laura, I know your instinct is to run away from it. from the guilt and the pain. But do that and it’ll find you sooner than later, likely when you least expect it. Embrace it. Accept it. Then forget. It’s the only way you live to fight another battle.”

Your hand slips around my waist, urging me to bend over further. You run the shower head over my whole body. The fine needles of it down my spine. Your fingers stroking lightly, unhurriedly over my wet cunt, never where I want them.

“Please.. Bill..I want...” I can’t help begging. I’m just not sure what for. I feel the showerhead inching ever closer to where I want it.

“ what do you want Laura?”

“ I want..I want you to tell me how to forget.”

“There’s no one way. I’ve got no magic answers...but I find that... overloading the senses can be effective.”

You sigh into me, grabbing your cock and pushing it through my folds. It is teasing. maddening.

“Oh..hmm..” I hiss as you snap your hips into me. There you are, inside me. So full. So deep. You are running the shower head back and forth over my mound, a gentle stroking, as you plunge into me, harder and harder with each thrust. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. And I push back into you, begging for more. Your steadying hand moves from the home it had found on my hip, reaching down to spread the folds of my labia. I scream out as the hard spray of water hits my clit. Over and over, pleasure on the edge of pain almost unbearable. Every time I think I’m growing numb to it. Every time, I start to come down, you change the angle. There is nothing but this. Nothing but the thousand fingers of water playing over a raw bundle of nerves and the hard slide of you bottoming out over and over.

I can’t hold myself up anymore. I can’t breath for gasping. “Stop. Stop. I can’t anymore..”

You are not listening. I only feel the hard roundness of the shower head grind further into my clit. I rip it away from me. It clatters to the floor . Joining my clothes - ruined, a sopping wet pile in the corner, forgotten until much later.

I pull your hands around my waist. Pull up until I am leaning flat into your chest. My arms, flailing wildly trying to find purchase around the thick cords of your neck. My voice a keening pathetic whimper. I’m sure I’ve never sounded like this:

“Yes...yes..please..please..come on..come on..”

The sound of your voice somewhere outside of me. Floating in the distance. A single word repeated. A rhythm:

“Frak..Frak...Frak..”

A benediction. A curse, as you come apart. Pulsing fitfully inside of me. You were right. In this moment I don’t care about any of it. There is only this.

***

“You were wrong by the way.”

I hear your voice. Feel it vibrate against my chest. As you lay in my arms hours later. Your hands absently tracing the path of my scar, Your hair still damp dark red tendrils against the pillow.

“Oh? Was I? What was I wrong about?” There is nothing in your eyes but mischief now. You have decided to let it go, for now, for as long as you can.

“Your shower.” Slightly confused, I place a kiss on your nose as you move to straddle me. You hum. That sound I love.

“It has many virtues. Don’t underestimate them.” I run my hands down your back. Gods’ how I love your back.

“Like what?” I grin

“Like...good water pressure.” A kiss to my neck.

“Like..a good sturdy wall.” A nibble on my ear

“Like...a detachable head..” the graze of your perfect teeth against a nipple. You stare at me through hooded eyes. Snuggling down, like you’re trying to draw yourself deeper into me. You’re tired. We are both just so frakking tired. And I’m sure there’ll be more days like this before Baltar’s trial is over.

“ I ruined my clothes.” You murmur quietly. Already reality is making an appearance. I need this. Need to hold onto it. To you. Just a little longer.

“Good. I like you naked, It’s the only way I know you’re not gonna try and run off and drown trying to find water”

“Funny boy.” You pat my chest so languidly. It almost turns into a caress. After a while your breathing evens out and I know you’re asleep. You are safe from yourself for now. And I am content. You won’t be going anywhere, at least not tonight.

 


End file.
